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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855304">Hearts Awakened, Live Alive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedtears/pseuds/saltedtears'>saltedtears</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hearts Awakened, Live Alive [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band), GOT7, Monsta X (Band), NCT (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Car Sex, Drug Use, F/M, Gay Sex, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mafia Ateez, Mafia BTS, Mafia EXO, Mafia Monsta X, Mafia NCT, Multi, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Violence, mafia got7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:41:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedtears/pseuds/saltedtears</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Y/N Lee (L/N) is thrust into a world of violence, corruption, drugs, and craziness when her high-profile family is kidnapped by notorious gang BTS.<br/>When rival-gang ATEEZ collects her and unravels secrets regarding her family's dark past, will Y/N be able to keep her head above water? Especially when confronted with suitors enamored by her fiery personality and willingness to do anything to keep those she loves safe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Jongho/Reader, Choi San/Reader, Hongjoong/Reader, Jeon Jungkook/Reader, Jeong Yunho/Reader, Jongho/Reader, Jung Wooyoung/Reader, Kang Yeosang/Reader, Kim Hongjoong/Reader, Kim Seokjin/Reader, Park Seonghwa/Reader, San Choi/Reader, Song Mingi/Reader, Wooyoung/Reader, Yeosang/Reader, Yunho/Reader, reader/jung wooyoung, reader/san choi, san/reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hearts Awakened, Live Alive [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hearts Awakened, Live Alive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The walk home from the bus stop was not pleasant in the slightest. A trickle of cold sweat makes its way from your brow to your cheek, trekking down the slope of your cheekbone, desperate in its escape from the surrounding icy temperatures. </p><p>It made you think of yourself- of how ready you were to retreat into your childhood bedroom at your parents’ house. The school year had sucked your ambition, vibrance, and energy sources dry. The closing of your college had served as a shock to all of those attending it, you included. Surely the economy hadn't fallen into that much of a pit? But it had seemed as though the entire continent, if not the world, was experiencing a new kind of crisis. And it wasn't strictly monetary. The government, in many locations throughout the world, had been overturned by gangs, locals, and corrupt, powerful public figures. Riots had broken out worldwide and voices were demanding to be heard by those in power. </p><p>And all you could think about was getting to your old home, hugging your mom against your chest, and going down the hall to collapse in the comfort of your bed. If luck was on your side, your dad would be home from work by now- if he still had a job. </p><p>There would be the initial waves of awkwardness once you arrived, your mom taking a second too long to return the hug, reminding you that she was, after all, not outwardly emotional. Your father, if he was home, would return the hug quicker, but the questions would follow quickly after. How were your studies going? Are you sure you don't want to pursue medicine? Had you met someone so that you could further the family bloodline? </p><p>It was those questions that left you feeling hollow, your chest emptying with each question mark, each elevation of his voice at the end of his sentences. How could you answer him? You were an average student, nothing that he'd have cause to be too ecstatic about- not with his lineage, you definitely did not want to pursue a medicinal career, and you most certainly were not thinking about contending men surrounding you, let alone someone who anyone would deem worthy of knocking you up. </p><p>His obsession with the family business would have to settle heavily on the brakes, or at least get into the slow lane. You wanted to establish your career, grow as an individual before you even thought about having another living being invade your body. What possible good would a baby do for your father's hospital empire? It's as if he expected you to give birth to a man donned in surgeon attire. </p><p>No, a baby would have to wait. As would most things your father deemed "immediate concerns," regardless of their ludicrousy. Who knew, maybe he'd put the third-degree on the back burner considering the state of emergency it seemed the world was now in.</p><p>Your breath comes shorter as you round the familiar street that your family home sits on, exertion weighing heavily on your body as clouded puffs of air dissipated before your eyes. You were thankful then that you had left enough clothing behind when you'd left for campus-living to survive on for the next few weeks. Your phone charger, laptop, and laptop charger were the only things necessary for you to bring halfway across the country; and they jangled slightly inside of your backpack- your only luggage- with each step you took, snow crunching beneath your boots. </p><p>The street was long, your home at the very end- the sun setting behind it- the closest neighbors a mile eastward. Large, colonial, and pricy in its stature, it rises into your field of vision. The acreage surrounding it, once your escape from parental pressure, had seemingly not been tended to since your departure. Weeds grew rampant and now lie dead against the snow-covered earth. The sight sent shivers in your spine rising, ghosts of your childhood poking at a door in your brain leading towards your memories. You shove them down, as you always had, and continue, refocusing on the house and not the yard that was home to so many repressed memories. </p><p>Despite the flakes of white clouding your vision, you can see that the front door is open. You wave at it expecting your mom to shuffle onto the porch and wave back, but she doesn't. Your heart beats unsteadily in your chest, fear prickling at your nerves as you near the house. You notice a myriad of strange things seemingly all at once. The open door, for one- but there was more. The cars weren't in the driveway as they usually would be if your parents were home, and the lights were off inside. The chimney that had always smoked throughout your childhood days remained dormant. Your house, typically so full of life, rested dead in front of you, reminding you of the weeds you had passed only minutes before. </p><p>You pry your phone out of your back pocket, thumb hovering over the emergency icon on your screen as you step onto the porch. </p><p>"Mom?" </p><p>It's quiet, but you're afraid to be any louder. There's a shuffle of movement from the second floor in response, it's so quick and quiet afterward that you almost question whether it even happened in the first place, but then it happens again, nearer this time, and you're not fast enough. In doing what, you don't know, there are so many things you aren't quick enough at. Pressing that emergency icon, turning on your heel, getting out of the house...</p><p>There's a hand over your mouth and another wrenching the phone from your hand, leaving a searing flash of pain in its wake.</p><p>The click of the door shutting behind you feels like the final nail in your coffin. And again, you aren't fast enough to turn and see who's closed it. The light from outside, your only source of light, is gone. You're left in complete darkness, strangers above and behind you.</p><p>"You're going to be quiet, and you're going to listen," a low voice directs in your ear. You can tell his frame is large just based on the massive hand covering your mouth alone. "If you so much as try to make a noise, this isn't going to end well. Got it?" </p><p>You nod your head, can't verbally respond to him with his palm covering your mouth so tightly. "Good girl," he purrs, his voice saccharine sweet with an edge, enough of one to warn you that he will do what's needed to keep you silent. "Go ahead and turn the light on, V." </p><p>You were doomed regardless, you realize with heavy finality. There's more than the person with his hand over your mouth and the one he referred to as V. You can hear the footfall above you, can guess that there are at least two more men upstairs while the lights flicker on. </p><p>V, a broad-shouldered man with deep brown eyes settles in front of you on your living room couch, a mask covering a majority of his face. "Your parents are important people," he starts, voice deep and dangerous, "important enough that we need information from them, and fast." </p><p>"Kook, why don't you sit her down over here, yeah?" Another voice asks, the owner of it sauntering into the room. He's slender, smaller than V and assumedly smaller than the man who has you in his grasp- but you get the feeling that he's more dangerous. "It's her against the four of us. What harm can she do?" </p><p>"I don't know if that's a good idea, J," your captor responds. </p><p>"She knows to be quiet, right?" J responds, "you're going to be good for us, right," he asks you, pacing slowly in front of you. His tone indicates he's wanting a very specific answer, but his eyes, when you catch sight of them, having a daring glint- almost as if he's pleading for you to make this difficult. </p><p>You don't. You're far too frightened and taken by surprise to do anything but nod once more, confused by the look of disappointment that flickers upon J's features. </p><p>"Tie her hands, just to be safe," he orders. "You almost done, Agust?" </p><p>He's speaking to the ceiling, someone beyond your sight, you realize. The second realization hits you quickly after. There were four of them, this 'J' person wasn't lying. You were outnumbered and completely unprepared. Fighting back would be a suicide attempt. </p><p>Kook, your captor, warns you once again to not make a peep as he removes his hand from over your mouth. You gulp in the air surrounding you greedily, hadn't realized you'd been holding your breath since the front door closed. Your throat burns slightly, deep drags of air causing the ebbing black dots obscuring your vision to dissipate as Kook leads you into the living room.</p><p>"Sit," he orders, shoving you lightly towards the four-legged armchair your dad had so often favored. And then he places zip ties around the arms of the chair and your wrists, binding you to the furniture. He mimics the action with the legs of the chair and your ankles, rendering you completely one with the furniture your father so loved. The three of them, J, V, and Kook, all sit in front of you on the patchwork sofa your mother had never allowed your dad to get rid of. </p><p>"Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?" Your voice wavers slightly, but you're shocked at your own question, at the hostility in your tone. </p><p>J, sitting in the middle of the two others, chuckles low. It surprises his confidantes as much as it surprises you, it seems. "You're fiery, aren't you?" </p><p>You don't reply, just continue staring J down as he collects himself. In truth, he frightens you. He's smaller than the others, but there's a promise of violence lurking in his eyes that makes you unsteady.</p><p>"It doesn’t matter who we are," he answers cynically, "but we are here for a reason, as I'm sure you've guessed." </p><p>There's another noise from the second floor, sounds almost as if someone's kicking the wall, and then there's a string of curses. "Why don't you go check on him, Kook?" J asks.</p><p>"Probably can't crack a code again," Kook mutters, shaking his head and tussling his hair. "I'll be back," and then he sets for the hallway, broad stature- now that you can see it- quite shocking. </p><p>“What are we doing here,” J starts again, eyeing you up and down, “you see, your family owes us a large sum of money. Let’s just say, there’s a debt, as well as building interest. Surely you know of this?” </p><p>Your expression stays perplexed, and you can tell that irritates J. Can see that he’s waiting for an actual answer. </p><p>“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you reply honestly, though you know that your honesty means nothing to the men in front of you. </p><p>“You expect us to believe that your parents have told you nothing about their private lives since your birth?” J asks, voice turning icy, “you truly expect us to believe that?” </p><p>“No,” you answer, “I don’t expect you to believe anything I say, but that doesn’t mean I’m not telling you the truth.”</p><p>J seems to ponder over this for a bit, flitting his attention from you to the fingers he drums mindlessly against the back cushion of the couch. “I wish I could believe you,” he finally says, almost sadly, before shrugging, “but I can’t. You see, Y/N,” you’re not even shocked that he knows your name. Not if what he’s told you is true. “I just don’t know you,” he continues, chewing at his bottom lip, “so I can’t trust you. That’s fair, no?” </p><p>You swallow a lump in your throat, suddenly wishing desperately for a glass of water. </p><p>“Your family has proven that they’re not to be trusted,” V adds, eyes impassive. “Us not trusting you? Let’s call it a precautionary measure.” </p><p>J giggles a bit, enlightened further when you shoot him a wild look. </p><p>“Where’s my family?” You ask, voice wavering.</p><p>“Ah, they’re not home at the moment, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.” J answers flatly. “They’re having what we will just go ahead and call a ‘meeting’ with our boss.” </p><p>“Boss? Who are you?” </p><p>“Forgive my lack of manners,” J rushes, standing and extending a hand towards you, “I’m J.” He stops short, smacks his hand over his face, “I forgot you’re tied up, my apologies,” he chuckles again, higher in tone, “this is my close friend and coworker V.” He finishes, sitting back down and watching you- no, waiting for you to speak.</p><p>“You already know my name,” you reply dryly, “there’s no need for an introduction from me.” </p><p>“I suppose not… Still, it’s the polite thing to do.” He shrugs, “but no worries, we have time to acquaint ourselves with each other.” God, you desperately hope not- but then realization dawns on you. </p><p>“You’re not going to let me go, are you?” </p><p>J doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to when the smile that causes his eyes to crinkle slightly does so for him. You can’t see his teeth beyond his mask, but you imagine they’re fanged, like a snake or some carnivorous animal.</p><p>“Will my parents… will they be okay?” </p><p>“If they comply.” J shrugs. “They likely will once they learn we have you.” </p><p>“I want to see them,” you tell the men in front of you, eyeing Kook and another man as they enter the room. The latter is smaller in stature than all of them, J included. You’d almost describe him as dainty, the ashen-grey hair settling atop his head is almost pretty- and you mentally slap yourself for thinking it. These men regardless of how easy they were on your eyes (from what you could see,) were dangerous. </p><p>“Coding algorithm here is tough.” The smaller man pouts, catlike eyes closing in frustration. “Couldn’t crack it. At least not here. We can take the software with us, see if Joon or Jin can help. I doubt Jiminie will be of much help given we’ve kept him waiting in the car all day.” </p><p>It’s like the man before you finally takes in your presence, gives you a sort of quizzical look before muttering a ‘hi’ and redirecting his attention back to J. “It’ll take some time, but we might be able to work through it with everyone. All hands on deck. Who’s this?” He asks, pointing a thumb in your direction. </p><p>“Y/N Lee,” J answers, but waves that away, “do we need to call Jimin in to help carry stuff out?” </p><p>“You can’t just take our belongings,” you spit out, finding your voice once more, “you can’t take anything from our home.” </p><p>J lets out a slight hiss, stands up and saunters in front of you once more, lowering himself to be eye level with you. </p><p>“Hobi…” the new man- had J called him ‘Agust?’- warns, lowering his voice and watching with bated breath through his own face mask.</p><p>“I think you’ve misunderstood the predicament you’re in once more,” J tutters- or now was it Hobi? “We don’t need to ask permission to take your things.” His breath, held back for the most part by his mask, still hits you slightly- smells strongly of mint and feels hot against your throat. </p><p>“You said you’d be good, yeah?” J- Hobi- whispers, moving a stray strand of hair from your forehead behind your ear with a cool thumb. “Are you going to be good, Y/N? Or is this going to get… difficult?” </p><p>From over his shoulder- with the slight bit of the room you can see beyond J- you watch as Agust, the latest addition to the mix, shakes his head lamely. </p><p>“I’m going to phone Jimin,” V shrugs, “while you guys, uhm, sort this out.” </p><p>“Sure that’s why,” Kook laughs. </p><p>“Shove it,” V quips back but walks out of the room all the same.</p><p>“Still waiting on an answer,” J purrs, now flicking one of your earrings gently- a stark contrast to the threats lurking beyond his words. </p><p>“Screw you,” you stammer, shiver crawling up your spine at the hot breath that fans your neck when he laughs deeply. </p><p>“You are something else, you know?” But he leaves you once again, settles in a stance next to Agust to have a relatively private discussion that you can’t quite make out. </p><p>You turn to Kook then, shrinking in on yourself when you find that he’s already got his sight on you. Something about him, something that you can’t place, seems almost familiar. </p><p>It’s then when you’re trying to figure out how you know the man who’d held you against his chest, a hand over your mouth when V bursts back in. </p><p>“We got a problem,” he announces, yet another man behind him, this one not even bothering to place his mask over his face. He’s beautiful, annoyingly so, and sends a sparkly smile your way to your displeasure.</p><p>“And that is?” Agust asks, eyes slitting. </p><p>“Quite a few motorcycles have been circling the streets around here,” Jimin announces, voice as annoyingly attractive as his face, “they weren’t really worrying until they drove halfway up the street, stopped for a few, and then hightailed it back. Think they saw me,” he shrugs, “oops.” </p><p>J sighs and runs a well-polished hand over his face in exasperation. “How long do we have?” </p><p>“Not long,” Jimin answers, “10, maybe 15 minutes? Seemed like they might be getting back up. We knew this might be a problem coming here though, right?” </p><p>“Doesn’t mean we welcome it.” Kook snaps. “Get a look at their jackets? Any insignia?” </p><p>“Compasses embellished on their bikes.” </p><p>Something in your brain itches at that answer.</p><p>“Joong finally decided to show up to the party?” J smiles, “We better get going. Though I’d really like to knock him on his ass.” </p><p>“Preaching to the choir, J,” V smiles, “haven’t seen a dime of the 80k Hwa owes me.” </p><p>80k? Dollars? Bitcoin? Who the hell were these people? </p><p>“Explains why we’re at odds with ATEEZ, doesn’t it, V?” Kook smirks. </p><p>ATEEZ, that’s something you do know about. A very disreputable mafia. You’d followed the local news from afar, knew that ATEEZ had overrun and taken control of a good portion of the cities near you. Their only enemy? The further disreputable BTS. Pieces of your puzzle were finally coming together, but they only left you more confused than you were in the first place. What could any mafia want to do with your family? </p><p>“Load her up,” J orders, “actually- wait. Load the hard drives and computers first. Joon won’t be able to say we brought nothing worthy of his time tonight. Kook, you good to watch her for a bit?” </p><p>“Sure,” Kook nods, looking at you once again, but there’s something off this time. He almost looks nervous.</p><p>The two of you remain quiet while the rest of the men file out of the room, disappearing down the hallway leading to the stairs of the house. </p><p>“I know you,” you tell him once you feel as though the rest of them aren’t able to hear you. </p><p>“You don’t.” Kook, murmurs, picking absentmindedly at his thumbnail. </p><p>“I do. Don’t know where from, but I do.” </p><p>There’s a flash of something, possibly panic, that registers on his face, and then he resettles. “You don’t. Sorry.” His tone tells you that the conversation is over, but you feel otherwise. </p><p>“I’m not stupid.” You whisper, “I’ll figure it out.” </p><p>He rolls his eyes but tightens his jaw. It unsettles you a bit, the way he seems so determined in you not unraveling this piece of information- has you teetering over the edge of an abyss of unease. Something here, regardless of importance, isn’t adding up. </p><p>Kook seems decided. It doesn’t matter how long you feel you bore holes into the side of his head, he’s not going to look your way. Not going to indulge you in conversation. So instead you focus your brain on figuring out how the hell you were supposed to get out of this situation. </p><p>There are a few absolutes that you can take note of first and foremost. One- you did not like these people, these invaders, that were in your childhood home. Two- you wanted assurance that your family, regardless of how tied up in a ‘meeting’ they were, was alive. Three- there’s a rival gang or mafia, whichever way you want to spin it, headed to your home right now. </p><p>You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, with no end in sight. </p><p>If you got away, fine, but what of your parents? They were still under the guard of these ‘Joon’ and ‘Jin’ individuals. Sure, your parents were smart, they needed to be in order to keep the family’s medicinal tycoon afloat, but they were gentle people as far as you knew. Your mom, so wary of any ‘emotional clogs,’ as she had coined them, was a small woman. Despite the lack of hugs and ‘I love you’s’ she shared throughout your childhood, there was also a soft aspect to her. She wasn’t suited for what you could only imagine she was going through now. </p><p>Your father? He could weather the storm, you supposed, but once any harm or distress had fallen upon your mother, he’d be a mess as well. His only weakness, despite the way in which he’d buried himself in his work throughout your time growing up, was his family; and these men could separate the three of you, assuming they already hadn’t. They could separate you and use that separation to their advantage. How would your dad know you or your mom were still breathing if you weren’t in the same room as him? </p><p>You were a different story. Despite the tough exterior you so often tried to exude, you were always found wanting some sort of reassurance. Your mom had described you well in your years of elementary school, calling you a flower bed on a sunny day that was lacking a water source. Left without a caring hand or some source of compassion for too long, and you would be caught wilting away under the heat of the star above. </p><p>There’s something bugging you. An itch. Jimin’s answer to Kook’s question earlier had stirred something within you. You hated not having answers. Never could stand the feeling of knowing something but not being able to put it into words, whether that was from your untimely laconic tendencies or your inability to remember a word or two in the first place- that didn’t matter. What mattered was that your frustration always grew, incessant in its need to unravel and make even the slightest semblance of sense. </p><p>But you can think clearly now, with a majority of the notorious BTS out of earshot and eyesight, you can’t quite decipher the totality of the situation, don’t know if you’ll ever be capable of doing so- but what you do know for sure is that your father never stepped foot out of the house without his voyager compass. </p><p>Your breath comes lighter and easier at that realization. Compasses meant safety as far as you were now concerned. </p><p>“Need any help?” Kook asks, and you crane your neck to see V and Jimin hauling out intimidating technology you had never seen in your home before. </p><p>Expensive looking technology, at that. Could your family even afford something so high caliber? You had money, yes, ridiculous sums of the stuff; but that technology looked government grade. Nothing like any sort of hard drives and computers you’d seen even A-list celebrities get their hands on. </p><p>Nervous sweat builds in the palms of your hands against your back. Did you know your family at all? </p><p>“Ask J,” Jimin huffs, “don’t wanna set him off. He’s not particularly happy that Hongjoong found out where we are.” </p><p>Kook sighs, and glances in your direction once more; still not quite meeting your eyes. “Stay put,” he orders. </p><p>When he’s gone, you slump in on yourself, both exhausted and mentally overwhelmed. You were helpless. Surrounded by five men, all high profile criminals, with no way out. Your limbs were rendered useless the second the zip-ties constrained them, and there were no immediate neighbors that might hear your screams. </p><p>So you had two options. Try and free your limbs, or wait for ATEEZ to show up. Both options were equally meek and unimpressive. If you got free of your constraints, awesome, but how did you expect yourself to outsmart and outrun five fully grown and intelligent men in the ice and snow surrounding the house? And who’s to say ATEEZ would protect you once they showed up? What if they were after precisely the same exact information BTS was after? </p><p>Information that you completely lacked understanding of? Information you had no idea existed until 40 minutes ago? There were minutes left if Jimin’s calculations were correct. Minutes until there would be a full out war inside of your house, or minutes until you would be in an unmarked vehicle, going god knows where with men you were utterly unfamiliar with. </p><p>Your plan, albeit more than likely flawed beyond belief, formulated itself under those simultaneous realizations. Why promise yourself to one method when you could combine them? </p><p>You have to be quick. You know that. </p><p>You move, sliding your arms back against the fabric until the pain sends white specks flooding your vision. Your wrists, one still assumedly sprained, ready your fingers as you grip the arms of the chair and crouch over, chair legs in the air; the furniture probably resembling a shell atop your back. And you pull- the pain in your arms nearly unbearable- the legs of the chair free of the zip-ties. </p><p>Halfway there. You sigh in relief, setting the chair back down noiselessly and sitting back down. You turn in time to see Kook and J taking out more armfuls of electronic devices you don’t have the wherewithal to name. </p><p>Staying calm, you wait until they’re gone, heart hammering restlessly against the confines of your chest. When the house is silent once more, you spring into action yet again, repositioning your arms to where your hands dangle over the end of the armrests. </p><p>It takes nearly insurmountable effort to swing your leg onto your lap, but you manage, and with unruly anxiety you untie your shoelace with your bad hand. The movement has your wrist screaming in protest, but you continue, tuning your pain out of your brain completely so you can solely focus on the task at hand. </p><p>You get to that last eyelet, and secure a knot on that end of the lace; and with what you can only imagine is surgical precision, you thread the other end of the lace through the zip-tie. You know it’s going to hurt because you can’t position the lace in a way that’s not touching your skin, but you want out. </p><p>You put that leg down, bring up your other, and tie the lace from the outside of your zip-tie to your other shoe. Threading the disassembled shoe around your other leg, you’re ready. In any other situation perhaps this would look comical, but you don’t care. Once more you wait, watching silently as Agust takes out an armful of contraband- and then you move once more. </p><p>You move your legs in a bicycling motion, feel the lace chafing your wrist raw, but ignore the pain once more as you work your legs faster. After thirty seconds, the plastic gives. It’s easy the second time, with your injured wrist free, to repeat the action and free your other hand. </p><p>There are voices outside, closing in, and you run. You know the layout of the house, can easily race across the kitchen and open the back sliding door, making them think you’ve left. But in reality, you do the opposite, opting instead on seeking out the one place your parents never could find you. </p><p>Jimmying your closet floorboards is easy enough work given what you’d just done, and though your wrists are pleading with you to stop using them so harshly, you feel as though you can’t pry the floorboards open quickly enough. The space- though you still fit inside- had been significantly larger when you were a child; when there was less of you to occupy it, but you make do. You’re calming your breathing when you hear the shouting, hear the litany of curses making their way through masked lips. </p><p>“You were supposed to watch her!” J, you think, shouts. </p><p>“You told me I could help you!” Kook yells back. </p><p>The rest, and there’s a lot left, is mostly indiscernible. It almost sounds as if you’re underwater. What you can’t impossibly mischaracterize is the sound of loud motors approaching your house, and the following gunshots that ring throughout the twilight sky outside. </p><p>Your blood runs cold in your veins, your body shivering in response to the deadly chorus of pops. You can feel your brain trying to pull you under, to ease the trauma it’s taking in response to the events, but you dig your nails into your palms, focus on the pain once more in defiance. If found, you wouldn’t be taken unconsciously. Whomever you ended up being discovered by, you wanted to see them. </p><p>When the yelling and gunshots finally die down, whether it’s minutes or hours later, you’re shocked by rattling. You can’t quite understand it because there were never water pipes connected to your closet flooring. It’s only when light fills your small space, and a man you’ve never seen before- red hair resting unruly atop his head, tall stature confiscating most of the surrounding light- stands above you that you see your trembling arms. It’s then that you realize the rattling was the sound of your teeth clanking noisily together while your body shivered and shook violently. </p><p>“Yunho, we’re going to need your coat,” the man calls out, eyes warm as he takes you in. </p><p>He pulls down his chained and spiked mask, reveals a set of full lips and a gentle chin, and carefully assesses you. “My name is Mingi,” he tells you, “we’re here to help you.” He seems honest, but can you trust him? “Are those burns?” He asks, sounding worried as he looks at your wrists. </p><p>You want to answer him, want to ask who the hell he really is, but you can’t find your voice. Can’t quite make sense of anything, honestly. </p><p>Another man enters and peeks over Mingi’s shoulder, near-white hair spilling onto the slope of his brow bone and presumably flooding his vision. His eyes are equal parts concerned and surprised when he sees you, but he hands Mingi something, more than likely the aforementioned jacket because Mingi carefully drapes it around you before gingerly pulling you out of your hiding hole.</p><p>You tense in his arms, but most of the fight left your body when the gunshots first rang out. </p><p>“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tells you, and for some reason beyond yourself, you believe him. </p><p>You relax the slightest bit, thankful that he’s not setting you down yet because you just don’t know if you could make it back down the stairs. You gratefully let him carry you down the staircase, but you’re not prepared for what meets you in the living room. </p><p>There are blood splatters painting the pricey furniture and the walls surrounding them, and there are four additional men scattered throughout the space. </p><p>One, small in stature and with cold and calculating eyes, watches Mingi stonily, blonde hair slicked back meticulously, birthmark standing stark against his cheekbone. Another, a man you can only describe as wolf-like, leans against the living room table, a blue streak in his black hair making him easily distinguishable in addition to his wolven features. </p><p>The third has a softer face and onyx black hair that looks almost velveteen against the tanned tone of his skin. He looks kinder than the first two, but there’s something that’s almost alarming in his gaze, something that chews at the pit of your stomach achingly. And then there’s the fourth who looks as if he’d rather be anywhere than where he is currently. Not that he can’t deal with where he is… if anything it seems to be the exact opposite of that sentiment. He looks bored. His mask is still up, unlike the rest of them, and his purple hair seems to shout that he wants you to look at him. </p><p>“Who’s this?” He asks, sounding as bored as he looks. </p><p>“If I’m correct, this is Y/N L/N.” Mingi replies. </p><p>That shocks you. Add it to the list. </p><p>Your family had taken a fake name as soon as you’d been conceived as far as you knew. Lee was what the media knew to be your last name, and it was the name printed across all of your legal documentation. </p><p>L/N was never mentioned. It was a name long ago dismissed, but never forgotten. Only those closest to your family and your father in particular knew of it. </p><p>You look at Mingi carefully, weighing in your mind whether you should trust him or not. </p><p>“We’re on your side,” Yunho tells you, eyeing you softly from Mingi’s side. </p><p>“I can’t believe you,” you reply, voice shaky and exhausted, throat aching desperately for a sip of water. </p><p>“We need to take her to Hongjoong and Seonghwa.” The wolf-like man announces. </p><p>“Give her a minute, San.” Mingi warns. “She’s scared of us, and she has every reason to be.” </p><p>“We just saved her,” the bored one snaps. </p><p>“She doesn’t see it that way, Wooyoung,” Yunho answers firmly. </p><p>“She’s terrified of us,” the man with onyx hair nods, “that’s fair.” </p><p>“Doesn’t that bother you, Jongho?” The man with the birthmark smiles, “thought you hated people being afraid of you.” </p><p>“Leave it, Yeosang.” Yunho orders, turning once more towards you. “I know it’s hard to believe us. But please, try.” </p><p>“I can’t,” you mumble, feeling defeated.</p><p>“Does this help?” He asks you, retrieving from the pocket of his jeans something you hadn’t seen since you left for college. </p><p>Your dad’s voyager compass.</p>
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